Adorable Psycho's A Wonderful Wager Gone Awry
by Wepdiggy
Summary: Chuck and Sarah go away for the weekend, and there are major things at stake. Sarah plays for keeps, but there may be obstacles to her coming out on top. General AP warnings apply. A birthday fic for Catrogue
1. Put Your Money on the Table

_A/N: Hello everyone! I know what you're thinking. "Wep! I thought you were dead or something, it's been so long since you posted anything." Well, nope, not dead. I've just been insanely busy of late. So what would make me ignore my busy schedule and get back to writing? Well it took two very special women to accomplish that feat. One of them, of course, being the Adorable Psycho. And the other is someone who has become a dear friend of mine. **Catrogue** and I met through Twitter, and have become fast friends, and quite frankly, I adore her sense of humor, and her passion for life. So it happens that today, November 25th, is her birthday, and I thought that someone as awesome at the Cat herself deserved an AP story all her own. And so, on this very special day, she's going to get one. This story is dedicated to Catrogue, and I wish her a very happy and healthy birthday! _

_Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck, and I don't own Catrogue. Though she could totally possess me if she wanted. Heh._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1: Put Your Money on the Table<strong>

Chuck Bartowski liked to think of himself as a well informed man, especially in all things involved in the Nerd Universe. So it was that he was very busy reading up on rumors and speculation about the new title Bioware was to announce in just a few short weeks.

His concentration, however, was broken when the front door to his apartment swung open, and he saw his girlfriend skip merrily into the living room.

Sarah's moods were quirky, to be kind, and a good mood, he knew, could be just as dangerous as a particularly foul mood.

Generally, the only things that could make Sarah so happy as to randomly skip into a room were a particularly satisfying kill, or coming up with a new place or position for her daily "plowing." Both options frightened Chuck in their own unique way.

And so he held his breath as he waited for Sarah to announce the source of her current joy.

She didn't make him wait long, continuing her path from the front door to stand just in front of where he was seated on the couch.

"Chuuuu-uuuuck," she said in an all-too-happy, sing-songy voice. "Do you know what Saturday is?"

Chuck thought for a moment. He thought long and hard. But honestly, he had no answer.

"You got me," he admitted. "What's Saturday?"

Sarah's huge smile quickly turned into a pouty frown. "It's my birthday," she answered.

"Oh," Chuck said. But wait, that didn't seem right. "But wasn't it your birthday two months ago, when you wanted amnesty for going over your limit?"

"Weellll," Sarah drawled.

"And wasn't it also your birthday back in April when you demanded we make love on the Nerd Herd counter? While there were customers in the store?"

"I do not 'make love,' Chuck. You know this."

"Still," Chuck said.

"And all the customers were huge nerds that had probably never seen a naked woman before, I'm sure they wouldn't have complained."

"Stop avoiding the question, Sarah," Chuck said impatiently.

"Fine," Sarah huffed. "If you insist, I have papers right here that prove that this weekend is my birthday."

She pulled some folded papers from the back pocket of her jeans, and shoved them in Chuck's face.

With a sigh, Chuck took the offered documents from her, and unfolded them. Sure enough, there was a long-form birth certificate for Sarah Lisa Walker dated November 26, 1980.

"See," Sarah said.

"This is not—that's not even your real name," Chuck said. "How am I supposed to believe that this is finally your real birthday?"

Sarah shrugged. "That's the advantage to being an international woman of mystery, I guess," she said. "I can have as many birthdays as I want."

"You do realize, this being your third birthday this year, that at your current pace, you'll be 40 soon."

Sarah was not to be deterred. "Or," she said, "I could never have another birthday, and I'll stay in my sexual prime for the rest of our lives."

Chuck deflated. He knew she wasn't kidding. Sarah wasn't the kidding type.

"Fine," he said. "So what are we doing for _this_birthday? Make love-"

"Chuck," Sarah warned.

"Right, sorry, _bang_in an office building?" Chuck corrected.

"That's better," Sarah said. "But offices are so last week. By which I mean I really enjoyed getting plowed in the office last Wednesday, but it's time for something new."

Chuck sighed. "What then?"

"I'm so glad you asked," Sarah said. "You're going to take me for a weekend getaway at the lake. Just you, me, and very little clothing."

"But I don't want to go away," Chuck whined.

"But it's my birthday," Sarah pouted.

"It's not your real birthday."

"You don't know that," she said.

"But it's not," Chuck protested.

"Fine," Sarah said. "I'll even sweeten the pot for you. I promise I won't kill anyone while we're at the lake."

That piqued Chuck's interest. Even if he didn't believe her for a moment.

"Okay," he said. "We'll go away. But I would bet you can't go the whole weekend without killing."

"I can too," Sarah cried.

"Oh yeah?" Chuck asked. "So here's the deal. If you break your promise, if you kill even one person, we come home immediately, and there's no sex for a full week."

"That's not fair!" Sarah said.

"Why? Are you saying you're going to break your promise already?" Chuck asked.

"No."

"Then you shouldn't have any problem taking the bet."

Sarah chewed her lip (her thinking expression, and an expression Chuck found irresistibly adorable, even if he'd never tell Sarah that, as she'd surely take advantage of that) as she mulled it over.

"Fine, you're on," she said.

"Shall we shake on it?" Chuck asked.

Sarah snorted. "Shake? That's not how we seal bets around here, buddy."

"What? Then how..."

Chuck's follow-up question died on his lips. There was really no need to even ask it. Sarah answered the question quite well by stripping off her top, and straddling Chuck's lap.

"Oh," he said. "So we screw on it, then?"

"Yep," Sarah said, before crashing her hips against his.

Then they sealed the bet. Twice.

* * *

><p><em>AN: So that's it for the first chapter. I'm out of town visiting family right now, so I can't promise when the second chapter will be posted, but suffice it to say that this story is almost completely written already, and once I return to the Windy City, I'll more than likely post a chapter a day until it's complete. Just one more time, I must say Happy Birthday Catrogue. I hope you get everything you wish for, and more. You guys are awesome. Peace. _


	2. Hello Ahab, This is Moby

_A/N: Sorry for the delay, guys. I got back in late Sunday night, and had to work Monday morning, which means I was barely alive most of yesterday. But now I'm back up to speed, and should continue to crank these chapters out to the story's conclusion. Thank you to everyone who took the time to review. _

_Also, I will take a moment to answer a few questions/concerns. Is **Breaking****Out**abandoned? No, not at all. In fact, the next two chapters are largely written, but I'm trying to get a better foothold of future chapters to avoid writing myself into a hole in that fic, as I'm wont to do with longer serials. Also, thanks to the STUPID Giants losing, and a bet I made with **BDaddyDL**I will be working on a new chapter of College Years. It will take some time, as the computer that held all my notes for that story is no more, so I'll have to re-read the fic in its entirety, and find a new direction, but it is coming. _

_Also, just one more time, I'll remind everyone that this is a birthday fic for the wonderful, sweet, smart, and beautiful **Catrogue**. It brought be great joy to know she enjoyed the first chapter, and hopefully the rest won't disappoint. That's all for now, and I hope you enjoy the chapter!_

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><p><strong>Chapter 2: Hello Ahab This is Moby<strong>

**Secluded Lake Calenhad  
><strong>**November 26, 2011  
><strong>**7:12 AM PST**

On their second morning at the lake, Sarah decided to go for a run to burn off some energy. She'd been particularly hard on Chuck the previous night (well, to be exact, it had been Chuck who was hard, but details weren't important), and being the magnanimous girlfriend she was, she decided to allow him a whole extra hour of sleep, before she demanded he give her a good shower plowing.

On her run, however, Sarah spotted something that made her stop in her tracks. The lake was supposed to be empty that weekend. Sarah had booked every cabin months in advance, just to assure that. She'd sold her superiors on the idea of paying for it, saying that Chuck's safety would depend on it.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Three months prior, under the Orange Orange… <strong>_

_Sarah stood alone in front of Castle's monitor, staring into the electronically displayed image of General Diane Beckman, her gaze just as hard as the small, but powerful NSA director herself._

"_As you'll see in the report I sent over, General, on the weekend of November 24th through the 27th, I plan to take Agent Bartowski to a small lake retreat. Colonel Casey and I have both put in for time off, and while Agent Bartowski is perfectly capable of looking out for himself, our team's past history shows that he would be safer were he not alone," Sarah said in a stoic, professional tone. _

"_Agent Walker—"_

"_Further, Ma'am," Sarah said, cutting off her superior, "Chuck could use some time off, as well. Frankly, I feel like he's on the edge of burning himself out. So a little time away, while I'm there to make sure he's safe, would be nothing if not prudent." _

"_Now you're going to lecture me on prudence, Agent Walker?" the General asked, a hint of amusement coming through in her speech. _

"_Well, it's just—"_

"_Fine." Now it was General Beckman cutting Sarah off. "Take your vacation. It will be covered by your expense account, and all other cabins will be booked, as you've outlined in your plan."_

"_Did you have a chance to read through the entire mission proposal?" Sarah asked. _

_The general picked up a large, bound stack of papers, and let it crash back down to her desk._

"_Your mission specs took up less than half a page. The rest of the report seemed to be a retelling of the Kama Sutra, and I honestly don't want to know all the specifics of what you and Agent Bartowski do in the privacy of your home. Or in the privacy of a small fishing boat, for that matter." Beckman said. _

_Sarah couldn't help but to grin. "I was rather proud of that one. Did you see the part where I will be bent over a—"_

"_Agent Walker, I beg you to stop there."_

"_Fine," Sarah pouted. "But my mission is approved?"_

_Beckman sighed. "Yes, you're free to do whatever…" _

_The general let her sentence trail off. There was no sense in talking to an empty room, and as soon as she'd gotten out her "yes" Walker had bolted out of Castle like she was on fire. No doubt to go celebrate the news with the Intersect. _

_Beckman shuddered. That thought would no doubt haunt her for the rest of the day. Thank God for twilight tranqs._

* * *

><p><strong>Present day, back at the lake… <strong>

But there was a cabin that wasn't empty. Outside of a cabin, Sarah spotted a woman with her back turned. But it wasn't just the presence of a stranger that irked Sarah. It was the stranger's long, flowing locks of brown hair.

Sarah's eye started to twitch. "Brunette," she growled.

If not for that stupid bet, she could have that skank dead and at the bottom of the lake in the time it would take to say "I need a good Chucking," but she knew Chuck would find out. He always found out.

So reluctantly, Sarah turned her back, and began to walk away. As if sensing her victory, the woman turned around. That's when things got infinitely more complicated. That's when Sarah's need to kill became infinitely more intense.

Jill.

Sarah almost began to salivate. The moment she'd waited, what seemed like all her life for had arrived. Jill Fucking Roberts stood no more than a city block away, completely unaware of Sarah's presence.

Bet be damned, Sarah wouldn't regret losing this one in the least.

Sarah slowly pulled the knife she had stored in her iPod armband (she often thought about how that particular innovation would have been presented at a Mac conference. Too bad Steve Jobs was no longer around to really sell the idea to the masses. At least that particular death wasn't her fault), and began to advance on her prey. A feral grin spread across her face, and she could practically taste the kill.

It felt almost like a coronation as Sarah continued her march to glory. In just a few moments…

"Sarah?"

Sarah started, and turned quickly, knife at the ready, prepared to take down whoever or whatever had dared to disturb the most important moment of her life that didn't involve nudity with Chuck.

Chuck? It was Chuck!

"Sarah?" he asked again, seemingly oblivious to the weapon she held. "Is that—"

"Jill," Sarah growled.

"But I thought—you said we were here alone," Chuck said.

Sarah rolled her eyes. "We're supposed to be," she said. "It's just like The Queen of All Skanks to ruin an otherwise perfect birthday weekend."

"Fake birthday," Chuck corrected.

"Whatever," Sarah said dismissively. "That's not really the point. The point is, I have to go kill her. For your protection, and all. I'll be right back."

Sarah took only a step in Jill's direction before she felt Chuck's hand on her wrist, spinning her back around, and pulling her to him.

"But you promised me. No killing," Chuck said. And dammit, he had that stupid, adorable puppy dog look on his face. Sarah knew she couldn't fight that. She only hoped logic would win him over.

"But she was with Fulcrum, Chuck. In case you've forgotten. And she tried to kill me. So I need to try to kill her back," Sarah reasoned.

"But she doesn't even know we're here!" Chuck protested. "And we can just go back to our cabin, and forget we saw her. No one gets hurt, no one gets killed, and Jill can just move on, whenever she moves on, and continue to stay out of our lives."

"But, but," Sarah stammered.

"How about this," Chuck offered. "You come back to the cabin right now, and I won't put on clothes for a solid 24 hours. One entire day, I'm yours to do with as you please."

Sarah frowned, her bottom lip protruding excessively. "You don't fight fair," she complained.

"Well, I could take the offer back," Chuck said.

Sarah sighed. "No, I'll take your offer. But if I ever see Jill Roberts again, after this weekend…"

"Let's just hope that doesn't happen," Chuck said. Then he kissed her, erasing any further protests Sarah may have had.

But as Chuck led a now completely horned up and oblivious Sarah away from Jill's cabin, they were all unaware of another set of eyes on the scene.

The mystery man, hunkered down in a secluded, well hidden brush, activated his walkie-talkie. "Agent Decker? Yes sir, everything is in place. They found her this morning. Yes sir, it's only a matter of time, just like you said."

* * *

><p><em>AN: Wep! What the hell are you doing. Jill? DECKER! Seriously? Yep, seriously. But I assure you, this storyline has been cleared with Frea, and she assures me that it sounds good/interesting. Plus there's all the usual AP stuff. Anyway, I hope you dug it. Cat, I hope you in particular dug it (it's still your story after all). And thanks to everyone that took the time to read. You guys are awesome. Peace. _


	3. Sarah's Birthday Suit

_A/N: Sorry for the delay, guys. I won't bore you with excuses and the like, but suffice it to say, I'm lazy, and easily distracted. And I'm working on some other projects, too, but you'll hear about all of those soon enough. For now, let's focus on the Adorable Psycho, shall we? After all, I have a birthday gift to complete for the awesome, talented, and incomparable Catrogue. Here's something you may not know about Catrogue: Once, there was going to be a 10.0 magnitude earthquake along the San Andreas fault, but Catrogue stopped it by sheer power of her will. You see, she's actually a superhero in her off ours. And now you know._

_Anyway, all of that aside, I hope you'll enjoy this chapter. I'm certainly taking AP to places she's never been before. Some places she'll really enjoy. Some, not as much. But hopefully they'll all be entertaining places for you, my beloved readers._

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><p><strong>Chapter 3: Sarah's Birthday Suit<strong>

**Chuck and Sarah's Cabin  
>Lake Calenhad<br>November 27, 2011  
>4:12 PST<strong>

Sarah reached her hands over her head and stretched to her full height. It felt absolutely amazing to elongate her muscles, as she'd been lying on her back for just a little too long. The stretch was almost as good as sex. Almost.

And that was a subject Sarah was an expert on. She'd been naked for a full 21 hours, and thankfully, so had Chuck. And not even because she'd burned all of his clothes so he'd be forced to walk around sans clothing like last time. He'd been so mad that day, but Sarah felt she'd proven her point.

She wasn't sure what that point was, but it ended with Chuck parading around naked for her, so in her mind, it was a good point.

But that one particularly fond memory aside, Chuck still owed her 3 more hours of nudity, and he was nowhere to be found. This perturbed Sarah.

She went into bathroom, and found Chuck lying-still naked, eyes closed- in the empty clawfoot tub.

"Chuck?" she almost whispered.

He didn't answer. Was he asleep? During her fairly earned 24-hour sexy-times block? Oh hell naw.

"Chuck!" This time it wasn't a question.

Obviously Chuck knew not to ignore her any longer. He cracked open one eye, but he didn't speak.

"I have three more hours, mister, and I don't intend to allow—"

"Do you ever think about what we'd be doing if we weren't spies?" he asked, cutting her off.

Sarah sighed. She knew what Chuck was doing. He was trying to distract her from getting the nookie she so craved and richly deserved. But she also knew that, if she didn't indulge Chuck in these little discussions, he'd get all butt hurt, and wouldn't put out anyway. It was a trap. A damn trap, with no way out, except to hope she could have the discussion quickly, so she could go back to getting plowed for everything she was worth.

"What's on your mind, Chuck?" she asked flatly. Despite her best efforts, she just couldn't muster the energy to fake enthusiasm.

"I don't know," Chuck said wistfully. "It's just, you know, seeing Jill—"

Sarah saw red, and she could see in Chuck's eyes that he realized his mistake just a second too late.

Sarah made a beeline for the front door, not even bothering to put on clothes. If that whore-bag Jill Roberts was the reason she wasn't getting stuffed like a holiday turkey right that second, Sarah was sure as hell going to remedy that problem.

But just as she reached for the door handle at the front of their cabin, she felt Chuck's arms wrap around her from behind. She felt other things, too. One very nice thing in particular.

"Shhh," Chuck whispered against her ear, making Sarah's whole body tingle with delight. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have mentioned J—her."

"Well I'm glad you've learned your lesson," Sarah whispered back.

It was a lesson that Sarah then drilled home to him. Or, more accurately, she allowed him to drill into her.

Once they were finished, lying sweaty and well spent on the bearskin run that sat beside the cabin's fireplace, Sarah decided to actually indulge Chuck in his earlier question.

"If I wasn't a spy," she said, "I think I'd like to be a morning radio host."

Chuck laughed, and Sarah, who was draped across his chest, felt the rumble of his laughter.

"What?" she said, a little offended.

"It's just, you never talk. How would you be a radio host?"

"I do talk!" she said. "I talk when I need to talk. Like when I tell you I'm ready for sex. Or when I tell some skankzilla that I'm about to end her wretched existence."

"Yeah, I somehow doubt the FCC would smile on such conversation over the airwaves," Chuck said.

"I do other stuff, too," Sarah said defensively. "I sing!"

"You do not—"

Not allowing for Chuck to belittle her anymore, Sarah broke into song. It was her version of Arcade Fire's _Sprawl__II_.

"They heard me singing and they told me to stop!" she shouted/sang. "I said fuck off Casey, and jumped on Chuck's—"

"Okay, okay," Chuck interrupted her. "I believe you, you sing."

"That's right," Sarah said, nodding righteously.

"So what kind of show would you do?" Chuck asked.

"Well," Sarah said, "I wouldn't do one of those lame morning zoo shows."

"Of course," Chuck said.

"My show would be about my life. I would talk about how I like to have sex with my nerdy, gorgeous boyfriend. Then I'd have contests."

"Contests?" Chuck asked.

"Contests," Sarah answered with a nod. "You'd have to answer trivia questions, and if you got them wrong, you'd have to get naked."

"Do you mean 'you' as in the audience members, or 'you' as in me?"

"You, of course," Sarah said. "I don't really care about seeing anyone else naked."

"What if I got the answers right? What would I win?" Chuck asked.

"You'd win sex with me, of course," Sarah answered, rolling her eyes.

"So let me get this straight," Chuck said. "If I lose, I get naked, and then presumably have sex with you. If I win, I have sex with you. I fail to see any point to the contest."

"It's my show, Chuck," Sarah said. "I don't need a point. I just want a platform to let all the skanks of the world know that you belong to me. So if I could get into radio, I could broadcast that fact to more skanks than ever. It really would be for the best."

"You do realize that radio hosts don't have a license to kill," Chuck said as he ran his hand through Sarah's hair. Despite phrasing it as more of a question, he was really pointing out a fact to her, she knew. If she was in any other line of work, her penchant for cleansing the world of skanks would become a little problematic.

That gave Sarah pause. It was a fair point. Being a spy definitely had its advantages. But then again, she wasn't the one that broached the topic of not being a spy to begin with. In the end, Sarah shook off any thoughts of not being able to kill.

"I'm sure I'd find a way," she said, shrugging her shoulders.

"I should find that unsettling," Chuck almost mumbled.

Sarah looked up at her boyfriend and smiled. "Yeah, but you love me."

"You know what?" Chuck said. "I think you're—"

Chuck didn't get to complete his sentence, as the door to their cabin was flung open. They couldn't really see their new guest from their spot on the floor. The couch blocked their view. But the intruder quickly made herself known.

"Help me," cried a frantic, unmistakably female voice. "You've got to help me! Someone's trying to—"

Chuck rolled Sarah off of him and peeked his head up over the couch.

"Chuck?" the woman said.

Then Sarah sat up.

"Hello bitch," Sarah said, that cold tone to her voice that was only evident when she was slipping into her most lethal mode. It was the tone of death.

Before Chuck could react, before he could even speak, Sarah was making a mad dash across the room toward her target. But when she was almost within reaching distance to the skank who had to die, she felt a sharp pinch against her naked butt cheek.

She turned to see a dart protruding from her skin. She looked past it, puzzled to see Chuck aiming a traq gun at her. Her first thought was "Where did he even hide that?" Her second thought was "How could be betray me?"

Then she hit the floor, unable to think anymore.

* * *

><p><em>AN: And that's all for now, folks. I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Hopefully you got some laughs, and hopefully I've provided some intrigue (or as much intrigue as one can provide in the messed up world of the Adorable Psycho). Once again, I really hope you're enjoying it, Catrogue. You're an awesome gal, who deserves an awesome story in her honor. Speaking of, all of you guys are awesome. Peace. _


	4. The Coming Storm

_A/N: Sorry for the delay, guys. I've been super lazy lately, but I mostly blame it on the weather. I do so despise cold weather. Anyway, lest you have forgotten, this story is a gift fic for the amazing Catrogue, who is, without a doubt, the coolest chick anyone could ever hope to know. She ain't bad to look at either, just so you know (crazy hair situations notwithstanding). Anyway, I won't keep you. You have some reading to do. Enjoy!_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 4: The Coming Storm<strong>

Sarah's eyes fluttered open, and she found herself in a very familiar place.

She was lying naked on a hammock, surrounded by a mountain of pillows. It was a warm, spring day, and she appeared to be all alone in a flowery, sunbathed valley. The hammock was tied between two maple tress that had, oddly enough, been groomed in the shape of a very particular part of Chuck's anatomy.

Sarah stood from her hammock, and stretched her arms and legs, letting the gloriously warm sun wash over her equally glorious naked body. She took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet smell of honeysuckles blooming throughout the valley.

"Good morning, mademoiselle," she heard over her left shoulder.

She turned to find Chuck looking quite dapper in a tux with a long coattail, with white gloves, and a napkin draped across his extended left arm. It was a good look for him, though his French accent could use a bit of work. Then again, it was cute how bad his accent was, and how nerdy it made him sound, so she decided he didn't need any work, after all.

"Good morning yourself, handsome," Sarah said, her voice low and sultry.

"I have a fine selection for you this morning," Chuck said.

He waved his hand to the side, and there appeared three more Chucks, all of them completely naked. One had longer, curly hair. Just as Chuck had when she first met him. One had shorter, cropped hair. The new look Chuck had adopted. The third had hair as long as the first one, only he had a beard.

"Hmmm, a tough choice as always," Sarah said, walking saucily over to inspect her selection.

But as tough as her decision was, she quickly made up her mind.

"Ah, I see you've chosen the Vintage 2007 Chuck," waiter Chuck said. "An excellent choice."

"Good morning, Sarah," said even another Chuck from behind her.

Sarah turned to feast her eyes on her newest, and most welcome visitor.

"Good morning to you, Mailman Chuck," she said.

Sure enough, the fifth Chuck of her morning was dressed in the outfit of the United States Postal service. He even wore those very short, very tight shorts, showing off an impressive bulge. At least Sarah was impressed. But then, there wasn't much about Chuck that didn't impress her. Especially not in his pants.

"I've got an urgent delivery for you," Mailman Chuck said.

"Oh, I bet you do," Sarah said suggestively.

He laughed awkwardly. "Sorry, Sarah. That's not what I mean. Not this time, at least. I have a letter for you that is marked urgent."

"Oh," Sarah said, disappointedly. "Can't it wait? I was just about to sample a vintage 2007 Chuck."

"I'm sorry," the mailman said. "This says you're to open it immediately upon receipt."

"Fine, party-pooper," Sarah pouted.

She took the envelope from Chuck's hand, and slid her fingernail along the edge to open it. She took out a single sheet of paper.

Once it was unfolded, the letter had but one short sentence, printed in bold, red font.

I GOT YOUR MAN, BITCH.  
>LOVE,<br>JILL

"Like HELL!" Sarah shouted, as she tore the paper into tiny pieces and let float away on the gentle breeze blowing through the valley.

She watched them as they drifted away, but before disappeared from sight, the small paper fragments began to circle around one another, as if they were caught in a whirlwind. But there wasn't a whirlwind to be seen, and the note from the skank started to reassemble right in front of Sarah's eyes.

Once whole again, the paper seemed to grow exponentially by the second and turned black. The now black letter, with the red text clearly visible nearly blocked out the dark clouds forming in the distance, but Sarah could still make out the storm on the horizon.

Jill's note was soon enveloped by the clouds, morphing to a storm cloud unto itself, making the coming storm appear all the more ominous and imposing.

"Come on, Chuck, we have to get indoors," Sarah said, turning to her 2007 Chuck.

But when she tried to grab his hand to take him with her, he pulled away. Sarah looked up at the clouds casting a pall over her perfect valley, and watched in horror as the dark cover took the shape of Jill Fucking Roberts.

"Forget her, Chuck," the cloud Jill said in a booming, overbearing (yet still shrill, because it was still Jill, after all) voice.

"You stay away from him, you bitch!" Sarah shouted.

Sarah's protest seemed to be pointless, however, as all of the Chucks—2007 Chuck, Mailman Chuck, Waiter Chuck, and every other Chuck in Sarah's happy land—began marching slowly toward Cloud Jill.

"Chuck! Where are you going? Come back!"

But they all continued to walk away from her, all with a single-word, monotonous chant on their lips.

"Jill. Jill. Jill."

"NOOOOOO!" Sarah cried.

* * *

><p>"Sarah? Sarah, calm down sweetie, it's going to be okay," Chuck said.<p>

Sarah stopped thrashing about, and opened her eyes. She looked around, and found that she was no longer in her now tainted fantasy world. She was back in the cabin. She was no longer naked (a pity), she was wrapped in her favorite, comfy light blue bathrobe. But at least Chuck was back with her, hovering over her as she lay on the couch. And at least that whore was gone.

"Oh, Chuck," she croaked out. "I had the worst dream ever."

She tried to move her hand to run it along Chuck's face, but quickly found that she couldn't move her hand at all.

"The hell?" she asked, frustrated.

She tried again, but still, her hands were held in place. She tried to kick out, but found her feet equally bound.

Then it all came back to her. Jill was in the cabin, and Sarah was going to finally get to kill her, but Chuck had shot Sarah with a tranq dart. In the ass!

"You shot me!" Sarah shouted.

"Sarah, calm down," he said in a soothing voice.

"No! You shot me to protect that slut!"

"Nice to see you, too, Agent Walker."

Sarah's gaze shot over to the entry way to the kitchen. There, leaning against the doorframe, sipping at a mug that had steam lightly flowing over its edge was the bane of Sarah Walker's existence. The one person on Earth that needed killing more than anyone else, and Sarah was powerless to dole out that killing.

"How could you do this to me?" Sarah said, turning back to Chuck. "How could you betray me for _her_?"

"Shhh," Chuck said. "I didn't betray you."

"The tranqing and the tying up says differently," Sarah pointed out.

Chuck frowned. "I'm sorry about that. But we need to hear Jill out, and I know how you're prone to rash decisions."

"This is not a rash decision, Chuck!" Sarah said. She then took a deep breath to calm herself. Shouting wasn't going to help her cause, in this case. "This isn't a rash decision," she said calmly. "I've thought about this for a long time. Years now. And my well thought out, rational observation is that Jill needs to die."

"Well, I'm happy I have your support," the whore said as she walked over to the couch.

When Skanky of Skank, the Skank That Skanked a Thousand Skanks was just a few feet in front of Sarah, Sarah lashed out. Bound to the couch or not, she had to try. If she could just get her hands around the slut's throat…

"Jill! I told you not to come in here until she calms down," Chuck scolded his ex.

Sarah had to smile a little then. Her wrist hurt like hell from her attempted escape, but it was always nice to see Chuck yell at Jill. Not as nice as seeing Jill die, but still nice.

Jill's head dropped, and she didn't look nearly as smug—which also brought Sarah great pleasure—as the brunette plodded back to the kitchen area.

"I don't think that Jill gets that you belong to me now," Sarah said.

"I think she—"

"You know what would really drive the point home?" Sarah asked, cutting him off. "If you fuc—"

"We're not doing that, Sarah," Chuck said.

"But Chuuuuuck," Sarah whined. "It's only fair! I had to watch her make out with you plenty of times."

Chuck sighed. "Jill's in trouble," he said, ignoring Sarah's pleas.

"Good," Sarah said. "She should be. She was a traitor, then she escaped custody. She's supposed to be in trouble."

"We have to help her," Chuck said. "She's not the enemy anymore. She's just trying to survive, and there are people after her."

"So?" Sarah said.

"And they led her here, which means we're probably involved, too."

"Well it is my birthday," Sarah said.

"You birthday is in July, Agent Walker. Fulcrum had your unredacted agency file," Jill interceded from the kitchen.

"Shut up, you!" Sarah shouted over the back of the couch.

"My point is, maybe someone brought her here so I could kill her. As a birthday present for me."

Chuck didn't try to conceal his eye-roll. "Is that really what you think is happening?"

Sarah poked her bottom lip out. "It could be," she said petulantly.

"Yeah, but it's not," Chuck answered. "So here's what's going to happen. I'm going to let you go, and we're going to work out a way to protect Jill, and figure out who's after her. Then, when she's safe, she can go on with her life, and we can go back to celebrating your fake birthday weekend."

Sarah didn't like that plan. Not at all. It didn't involve plowing or killing, her two primary functions, and worst of all, it would benefit Jill Roberts, the one person Sarah hated above all others.

Still, Sarah wasn't stupid. She knew she didn't have a choice in the matter. If she said no, Chuck would do it anyway, and she'd just be lonely and horny for the rest of the trip. But if she helped Chuck, they could probably get it done faster, and Chuck would probably reward her for a job well done.

"Fine," Sarah finally conceded. "I'll play your game, Chuck. But you will owe me for this."

Chuck smiled. "I wouldn't have it any other way. Now, here's what Jill has told me."

* * *

><p><em>AN: And that's it for now! I'm really curious to hear your thoughts on our Adorable Psycho's dream world. I had a LOT of fun writing that. Her head can be a scary place, but a barrel of fun, still the same. Thank you so much for reading, and in case I don't update in the next week, happy holidays! You guys are awesome. Peace (on Earth, good will to men, and whatnot). _


	5. The Things Sarah Does for Loving

_A/N: Wow guys, so, so sorry for the delay. To call my recent bought with writers' block epic, well, it would probably be accurate. Heh. I just haven't been able to write ANYTHING. But then Valentines Day rolled around, and I knew that today was the day to break my slump. So I pumped this chapter out in no time, so I'd have a gift to give one of my most favoriteist people in the world, the wonderful **Catrogue**. So this is for you, Cat. Happy VDAY!_

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><p><strong>Chapter 5: The Things Sarah Does for Loving<strong>

Sarah sat rigidly in the uncomfortable chair in Jill's cabin. It was her shift for watching Jill, and Chuck was back in their cabin sleeping. Sarah would've given anything to be there sleeping with him. Or at least in bed with him. She doubted there would be any sleeping going on.

But Chuck had insisted that they would watch out for Jill until they figured out who had lured her to this retreat. Sarah had reluctantly agreed. She really couldn't deny Chuck anything he wanted. Mostly because she didn't want him to deny her the one thing she needed more than anything in the world. The one thing she _should_ have been getting right at that moment.

"Hurry up in there," Sarah growled, pounding her fist against the wall between the living area and the bathroom. There was no answer.

Jill had insisted on taking a shower, and Sarah patently refused to ever allow Skankzilla to wash herself in a shower Sarah would have to use herself. So it was under protest that she'd accompanied Jill back to her cabin to clean up.

Every fiber of Sarah's being compelled her to just kill Jill while Chuck slept and dump her in the lake. Tell Chuck that Jill had run off again. But she couldn't. She knew Chuck would see through her charade, and she'd pay the price for it, with lost coitus. And that just wouldn't do.

"I said hurry up!" Sarah repeated.

The bathroom door swung open, and Jill stepped through, wrapped in a towel, using another towel to squeeze the water from her hair.

"Keep your pants on, Agent Walker," Jill said, not making eye contact with Sarah.

Sarah fumed. She wouldn't _have_ to keep her pants on if a certain brunette whore hadn't decided to show her face on Sarah's fake birthday weekend.

"So, you and Chuck are together for real now?" Jill asked, seemingly oblivious to Sarah's rage. "Huh, I never would've thought. Figured you were a CIA lifer."

"And I figured you were a giant, stupid slut," Sarah shot back. "One of us was right."

Still, Jill barreled on. "And honestly, I didn't get the feeling Chuck was that into you last time I was around you guys. I don't think he even brought your name up during any of the long talks we had."

Sarah began to shake. The rational part of her brain knew Jill was trying to goad her into doing something she'd regret. The non-rational part of her brain—the part of her brain she'd allowed to do most of the work since finally consummating her relationship with Chuck—told her that any consequence would be worth ending Jill's existence.

For once, rational thought won out. Still, Sarah couldn't resist getting in a barb of her own.

"Well you should know, the first time you showed up, when you and Chuck were dating again? I totally could've had him. We were mostly naked together in the shower. And you should've seen the look at his face as he ran his hands all over my body. I've seen that look many times since then. So many times. Maybe when we get back to our cabin, I can show you that look for yourself."

That shut Jill up. Sarah was quite pleased with herself.

"So did you see anyone skulking around outside while I was in the shower?" Jill asked, a bit dejectedly. Sarah couldn't help but laugh to herself at the sound of defeat in Jill's tone.

"Do you see any dead people?" Sarah asked condescendingly. "Because killing people is the thing I'm second best at."

Sarah waited for Jill to ask her what she was best at, but the question didn't come after a long, silent moment.

"Go ahead, ask me what I'm best at," Sarah prodded.

"I'm going to assume you're going to say you're best at having sexual relations with Chuck," Jill said.

Sarah's fun was ruined. Stupid Jill, messing everything up.

"Why do you have to ruin everything?" Sarah pouted. "You're a ruiner. And I like to call it getting plowed, just so you know."

"Whatever," Jill mumbled. "You ready to go back?"

Sarah blew out an exasperated breath. She still wasn't over the letdown of Jill spoiler her wordplay.

Jill had slipped into some clean clothes, and was walking out the door. Sarah steeled herself and prepared to fight her nature for a few more hours until Chuck awoke, and then followed.

Sarah was only two steps out the door when she heard some rustling for a nearby bush. Her spy instincts kicked in, and she reached out to grab Jill's arm.

Jill jumped in surprise. "What are you—"

"Shut up," Sarah whispered. "I heard something."

Sarah pulled her Smith & Wesson from behind her back. "Stay here," she demanded before turning and walking toward the noise she'd heard.

For the moment, Sarah wasn't just Chuck's girlfriend. She was a seasoned spy. She flattened her back against Jill's cabin, and moved slowly toward the bushes, prepared for something, someone to jump out at any moment.

When she finally reached the origin of the disturbance, she was disappointed to find no one there.

Sarah frowned. It must have been some type of animal.

She turned on her heel and began to holster her weapon when she was greeted by a most unwelcome sight.

A white male in his early 40s stood behind Jill, one of his hands covering the skank's mouth, the other holding a gun to Jill's head.

"Well hello, Agent Walker, fancy meeting you here."

Sarah's mind raced. Part of her just wanted this guy to off Jill so Sarah could get back to celebrating her fake birthday. But she knew that Chuck would never believe her if she said that someone else had killed Jill. She also knew that, even in the off chance that Chuck did believe her, he'd be bummed about Jill's death too much to make the weekend worthwhile. He was all girly that way.

Sarah sighed. She was going to have to do the one thing that went against her very nature. She was going to have to save Jill Roberts' life.

"Who are you and what do you want?" Sarah demanded, pointing her gun at the assailant.

"Please, Walker. What do I look like? A Bond villain?"

"A little," Sarah admitted. "But not nearly as fancy."

The man rolled his eyes. "You can call me Decker. But as for what I want, that part you're just going to have to find out."

"You know, you may not want to but your hand so close to that mouth," Sarah said, not taking her aim off the man holding Jill. "You don't know where she's been."

The man chuckled, but even his laugh sounded gross and evil. "While I do appreciate your hatred of Ms. Roberts—and I do, it makes my job so much easier—I'm afraid I can't stand around all day and chat with you about her."

No sooner had this Decker finished talking, the very ground below Sarah's feet began to shake. The trees that surrounded the cabin were being blown in every direction.

Any thoughts Sarah had were drowned out by the sound of the propeller of the helicopter that was hovering feet above Decker and Jill. The force of the wind nearly knocking Sarah down.

Someone inside the chopper threw a rope down to Decker, which he attached to his belt. Sarah watched helplessly as he and Jill were lifted into the waiting helicopter.

As it started to move away, Sarah fired off three useless shots. There was no chance of taking down the helicopter, but she had to try.

Before the chopper disappeared from sight, Sarah managed to catch the tail numbers of the 'copter. It wasn't much, but it was all she had to go on.

Now, she had to figure out how to save Jill. And that thought nearly made Sarah vomit.

* * *

><p><em>AN: So that's it for now. Probably a couple chapters left, and we can wrap this up. Hopefully you enjoyed this chapter, and the Jill/Sarah interplay, which was a BLAST to write. Also, most importantly, I hope YOU enjoyed it, Catrogue, as it is still your birthday fic, even months later, haha. Thank you so much for reading. You guys are awesome. Peace. _


	6. Return to Waterloo

_A/N: Okay, a ton of apologies to go around. First and foremost, I most apologize to the incomparable **Catrogue.** It's just not right to write a story FOR someone, and then let it fall by the wayside. Especially someone as epic as she. But also, I have to apologize to all of my lovely readers. On top of enjoying the awesome weather we've been having in Chicago, I've also been looking for a new place (found it! I move in July 1st!), and trying to write when I can. I've managed to work on a number of projects, including one that I'm VERY excited about. But unlike stories past, I'm going to complete this one, start to finish, before it's every published. Figure that will help motivate me to get it done. Also, I must apologize to anyone reading this. I wrote this over a number of lunch breaks, and honestly, I'm too tired right now to proof read it, and I just want to get it out there. If I find errors, I'll correct them then. And, those are the apologies. I could probably do more, but honestly, I'm really tired, and I want to get this started. Hope you enjoy!_

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><p><strong>Chapter 6: Return to Waterloo<strong>

Sarah hit send on the sixth text she'd sent in the past two minutes. The messages had gotten shorter and more urgent as she went along. The latest simply read, "CASEY! ANSWER ME!"

Still, there was no reply. Sarah was fuming now. Texting and driving was hard enough. Texting and flying a stolen helicopter was nearly impossible.

Finally, she gave up on the text route, and requested a FaceTime. Her request was quickly accepted.

"What the _hell_ is it, Walker?" Casey asked. "And what is that noise?"

"I'm in a chopper," Sarah explained.

Casey grunted. "I know I'm probably going to regret asking this, seeing as you're away on vacation with the geek, but why are you in a chopper? And please, feel free to be as vague as necessary if this is some weird sexual bucket list thing."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "First of all, I crossed that off the list months ago. You'd know that, if you'd read the 'Sarah's Sexcapades' digest I started publishing back in August."

"Walker," Casey growled, "there is no amount of money you could pay me to read that. Makes for a nice birdcage liner, though."

Sarah was appalled. All her hard work that she'd put into her newsletter, and Casey was using it for a bird shit catcher? And…

"When did you get a bird?"

"Not important," Casey said dismissively. "What is important is, why are you bothering me instead of molesting your nerd? What, Chuckie boy not up to the challenge anymore? The goods gone bad in his opinion?"

Casey chuckled at his own joke, but it just irritated Sarah further. Not only was she in the process of doing the most heinous thing she could think of—saving Jill Roberts' life—but she was having to endure Casey's abuse, as well.

"Chuck's stuff is working just fine, and so is mine," Sarah barked. "And if you'd shut your smart mouth and let me talk, maybe I could go back to proving that point."

Casey shuddered. "Just don't give me the details, yeah?"

Now Sarah knew she had an advantage. "Fine, I won't. As long as you help me with my little problem."

Casey sighed. "Okay, but make it quick. My Scotch isn't getting any Scotchier."

"Are you drunk?" Sarah asked, affronted.

"My partners are supposed to be on vacation, of course I'm drunk," Casey said. "Now what's the problem?"

"Okay, here's the thing," Sarah said. "So Chuck and I were having a nice weekend. I got rid of all his clothes, so he had to stay naked. And it's kind of nippy, so he was glad to—"

"I said no details, Walker," Casey boomed.

Sarah rolled her eyes again. "Fine. Anyway, so out of the blue, who should pop up? Jill fucking Roberts!"

If she wasn't so angry at him, Sarah would worry that Casey was about to choke on his own tongue, he was laughing so hard.

"Oh," he struggled for air. "Oh, that's just fantastic. And of course, you can't off her, 'cause Bartowski would get all moody, and you couldn't—that's just great."

"I don't think it's great," Sarah shot back. "I think it sucks!"

"Yeah, well you fall down an elevator shaft, it's hilarious, I have a hangnail, it's a tragedy," Casey said.

"You want me to fall down an elevator shaft?"

"What?" Casey asked. "No, it's just a—never mind. Look, just get to the point of why you're in a helicopter, and what you want me to do."

"Right," Sarah said. "So this guy shows up and kidnaps Jill, which normally I wouldn't care, but Chuck's taking a nap, and if she disappears, he'll think _I _killed her, and then I won't get sex, so…"

Another roar of laughter came from Casey. "Oh God, this is rich. So you, of all the people in the world, have to save the life of a brunette who has actually had her way with the nerd? This is the best day ever."

"Suck it, Casey," Sarah spat. "The thing is, I got the tail-number for the other chopper, the one with Jill, but of course, I'd have to call in a few favors to track it, since I don't have any equipment. But you, on the other hand, can track it from right where you sit, and you can tell me where I need to go."

"You don't know where to go?" Casey asked. "Then where is your pilot taking you right now?"

"I'm the pilot!" Sarah shouted. "And I'm just flying around blind."

"Jesus, Walker, where the hell'd you get a chop—you know what? Don't answer. Plausible deniability and all."

"That's probably for the best," Sarah agreed, nodding her head. "Anyway, look for N-555-FM," Sarah said.

Casey turned away from his phone, and Sarah heard his fingers moving over a keyboard in the background. It only took seconds for him to return.

"That's a CIA bird, Walker," Casey said. The surprise was evident in both voice and expression.

Sarah's head started to spin. Why would the CIA want Jill Roberts? Or more importantly, why would the CIA try to rob Sarah Walker, one of their best operatives, the one thing she required to stay alive? Chuck's sexing. That just couldn't be true, could it?

"That's not true!" Sarah said. Though even she wasn't convinced by her denial.

"Walker—"

"Why would they do this to me?" she asked, not letting Casey try to calm her.

"Maybe this is their way of trying to tone down the crazy," Casey suggested.

"Don't call me crazy!"

"Fine, whatever it is, you need to turn around, and—"

"Tell me where they are," Sarah said through clinched teeth. CIA or not. Good guys or bad, it didn't matter. If she didn't return with an unharmed Jill Roberts, she would have to pay the conjugal consequences.

Casey sighed. "Alright Walker, I just hope you know what you're doing," he said.

"I know damn well what I'm doing, Casey. The only time I know more what I'm doing—"

"I swear, if you turn this into some pervy reference to your naked time with the nerd, I'm keeping these coordinates to myself."

"Fine, whatever," Sarah said. Though she was a little disappointed she didn't get to complete her thought. "Just give 'em to me."

"Looks like 34° 53′ 36″ North, 117° 1′ 8″ West," Casey said. "According to my maps, that means—"

"I already know," Sarah said, her voice sounded more than a little haunted. "I know all too well. They're in Barstow. My Waterloo."

* * *

><p><em>AN: So that's it for now. AP is going back to the scene of her biggest failure: Barstow, CA, where she failed to get Chuck to sex her, for lack of a prophylactic. What plot awaits her? Why is Jill involved? Why is the CIA involved? Will she ever get plowed again? Tune in next time for at least some of these answers, and I'll do my best to make sure the wait isn't as long next time. Until then, you guys are awesome. Peace. _


	7. The Real Reason Chuck Cancelled Netflix

_A/N: So that wasn't nearly as long this time. I'm kind of proud of me. Also, as always, I will remind everyone that this fic was a gift for my good buddy **Catrogue**. I'm so glad you liked the last chapter, Cat, and hopefully this one won't disappoint! I'll keep this note short and sweet, as I really don't have much to say, and even if I did, it's moving weekend, and I'm kind of on a schedule, haha. One other thing though, once again, I posted this in a hurry, so I'm sure there are some errors. I'll correct them if/as I see them. Thanks for reading, everyone! Oh, and also, I don't have a financial claim in Neflix, Chuck, or Gossip Girl, I swear._

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><p><strong>Chapter 7: The Real Reason Chuck Cancelled Netflix<strong>

_Barstow, California…_

Once or twice in her career as a spy, a terrorist had narrowly escaped her grasp. There were a few occasions when an asset under her watch had disappeared or even been killed without giving her the information she needed. And just two weeks prior, she'd been unable to deliver the swift justice due a skanky brunette who thought it was okay to eyeball her man.

And while there was failure involved in all of those occurrences, that failure could be written off as her mission falling victim to circumstance, be it an air traffic controller that wouldn't clear her for take-off, a double agent who didn't know how to watch his own back, or Chuck distracting her with promises of a good plowing.

But there was one moment in her life that Sarah Walker could truly look back upon, and say she'd been an unabashed failure.

In September of 2007, upon first meeting him, Sarah knew Chuck Bartowski was something special. By November, she knew she had feelings for them. New Years Day, 2009, she admitted to herself for the first time that she was in love with him. But it wasn't until April of that year, in a seedy Barstow motel room that she realized she _needed_ him.

Sleeping in the same bed that previous night had led to spooning, which had led to hand holding, which had led to making out, which should have led to her first time with her one great love.

When Chuck disengaged from their kiss, and excused himself, presumably to retrieve protection, Sarah's entire body hummed with a need and desire that she'd never known before. And one that had lived within her ever since. A craving she was never able to sate—at least not for long, yet one that she constantly pursued. Sarah had never suffered from addiction, but from what she knew of the disease, she knew she was essentially chasing Chuck's dragon.

But on that fateful day, her needs were not met. Chuck's lips had rendered her speechless, and when he couldn't find a condom, she was unable to tell him he didn't need one with her. Or that she'd be more than happy to do something else for him, if he was uncomfortable with unprotected intercourse. She wasn't able to tell him anything.

Then, before he could return with a rubber, they were interrupted. Then she'd been rushed away to a hotel with the other members of the bridal party after Ellie's rehearsal dinner. Then Chuck had been stupid, and uploaded the stupid 2.0. Then he left her waiting at a stupid train station. And Sarah was left wanting—_needing _more for months on end, before she finally got her true desire met.

And it all started in Barstow. Her obsession, her constant need for physical affirmation, it all started in that stupid motel room. And now, someone had brought her back. To what end, Sarah wasn't sure. But whatever was going on, Jill was involved. And Sarah couldn't allow her arch nemesis to die. That fact alone made the situation infinitely more complicated. Sarah Walker wasn't in the business of keeping skanks alive. Quite the opposite. But now, she had to make it her specialty.

The helicopter that had fled the scene at the lake had been set to rest just outside the motel that still lived in Sarah's nightmares. Clearly, whoever this Decker douchebag was, he didn't mind her finding him.

Sarah set her chopper down a few blocks away, and walked the distance to the motel.

Her first stop wasn't even in question. If she'd been brought back here, she knew it was because of the significance of this place. And if they really wanted to drive that point home, there was nowhere else to look besides her room from that horrible morning.

She moved as stealthily as she could manage across the property, while making a beeline for that room. The one she'd never forget.

Steeling herself, Sarah took a deep breath, and kicked open the door, her S&W at the ready.

What she saw was a surprise to say the least. The kidnappers weren't in the room. No one was. Except Jill. Jill, and what looked to be a very well put together science lab.

"Jill, what the hell is going on?" Sarah growled, never taking her aim away from the Whore of Palo Alto.

Jill, who was hunched over a lab station, seemingly oblivious to the raging blonde that had just kicked in her door, slowly turned, moving her sliding her glasses up her nose to fix them on her eyes.

"Oh, Agent Walker, they said you'd be coming by," Jill said.

Sarah felt a sense of dread start to form in her gut. If Jill knew…

"So you knew about this plan?" Sarah asked, her eyes narrowing on the slut before her.

"What?" Jill asked, finally showing some sign of surprise. "No, not at all! But they said you guys worked together, and that this was some type of drill they were running? It all sounded really weird, but they said I'd be pardoned when it was all done, so I went along with it."

"So they haven't abused you any? Mistreated you?"

"No, not at all," Jill said.

Well, that sucked. At least they could've roughed Jill up a bit, since Sarah couldn't do it herself.

"And they gave me this great lab to work in while I waited. Even gave me a Netflix account I could use."

"Netflix?" Sarah asked.

"It's this service—"

"I know what it is," Sarah growled. "We used to have it, but Chuck cancelled our subscription."

"Was it because of the price increase?" Jill asked.

* * *

><p><em>Six Months Prior…<em>

It's not that John Casey wasn't scary in her own way. He was. But Sarah hadn't killed in over a week, and she was starting to get a little stir crazy. Not that Chuck approved of her violent streak, but having been in the spy business for the short time he'd been in, he'd come to realize there were in fact some people that just needed killing. He really hoped they'd run across one of those people soon, because while he was a healthy young man, he just wasn't able to keep up with Sarah lately.

So he'd come to hide out at Casey's, but to Sugar Bear's dismay. Sure, Chuck had to endure a little ribbing for needing shelter from his beautiful, if somewhat eccentric girlfriend, but it was totally worth it to get a few minutes of peace and quiet.

A quiet that was interrupted by a text. A text from Sarah. A text that read simply, "_THAT BITCH!"_

"Dammit," Chuck muttered under his breath.

He knew sneaking away from Sarah had its consequences. He'd only hoped that they wouldn't fall on some innocent bystander. Again.

Sighing, Chuck activated the Sarah-Tracking app on his phone. Casey called it the "Lunatic Locater." Casey was a dick, sometimes. But he was also not wrong. Since convincing Sarah to wear the tracker, he'd already saved a shit-ton of brunettes that would have otherwise ended up in Castle's crematorium.

"Huh," Chuck said, as the GPS pinpointed Sarah's location. It said she was right across the way, in their apartment.

Still, Chuck knew with Sarah's little spells, it was better to be safe than sorry.

He peeled himself off Casey's sofa, and walked across the courtyard.

He could hear screaming coming from inside, so he knew he had to be careful. If there was truly a dangerous person, attacking Sarah, surprise could be his ally.

Slowly, he opened the door and peek.

What he found should have surprised him, but somehow, it didn't.

Sarah was standing on the coffee table, her gun in her hand which was waving about wildly.

"Kill that bitch, Serena!" Sarah yelled. "Choke her!"

"Um, Sarah?" Chuck said meekly.

Sarah's crazed glare turned from the television to the partially open door, and as she saw him, her expression changed from complete rage, to an overwhelming smile.

"Oh, hi Chuck! I was just watching this show called _Gossip Girl_. It's really good, but it has this skank named Blair, who gets her paws on a guy named Chuck, and—"

"Um, Sarah?" Chuck said hesitantly. "The gun?"

"Oh! Yeah, see, Blair screwed Serena over with the Dean at Yale, so I got a little upset, and—hold on just a moment."

Sarah turned back to the television, and leveled her gun, squeezing off a round, leaving a gaping hole and sparks where Blair Waldorf's head used to be.

"All better now," she said brightly. "Care to accompany me to the bedroom?"

* * *

><p><em>Present day…<em>

"Um, yeah, that's probably why he cancelled," Sarah said. "What are you working on?" she asked, trying to distract away from the previous—admittedly still sore subject. Sarah missed her Netflix.

"Right," Jill said. "So I noticed you were limping a little yesterday."

"Yeah, my knee gets stiff sometimes."

"Uh-huh," Jill said, picking a clipboard up off her workstation and making some notes. "Have you had any unexplained fever? Headaches? Depression?"

"Well," Sarah said, "when Chuck doesn't plow me, I get pretty depressed. And I'm hot all the time."

"Right," Jill said solemnly. "Then it may be as I feared, but we should know soon enough."

"Know what?" Sarah asked threateningly.

"Well, I saw your behavior when you saw me the other day, and I had a theory, so while Chuck was distracted, I managed to draw a sample of your blood—"

"You took my blood?" Sarah boomed.

"Well, yes, but I had my reasons. Agent Walker—Sarah," Jill paused dramatically. "I think you may have rabies."

"I—_what!" _

"It explains everything," Jill said. "If you'll just let me finish this test, I'll be able to—"

"You'll finish nothing!" Sarah said. "You're coming with me. Back to Chuck. Then he can see that you're safe, and then I can tell him that you tried to kill me by taking my blood, so he'll let me shoot you in the stupid face!"

"I'm afraid you can't leave just yet, Agent Walker."

Sarah turned to face the still open door, and this new interloper. It was the man from the lake. Decker.

"What do you want?" Sarah said, shifting her aim to the douche in the G-Man suit.

"Well, you see…"

The man drew his pistol and leveled it at Jill's head.

* * *

><p><em>AN: A cliffhanger. Heh, I just imagine Sarah going, "Oh, I'd hand Jill over a cliff, alright. Then I'd let her go!" Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it, and hopefully, everyone is on the edge of their seat for the next chapter. You are, right? Of course you are! You guys are awesome. Peace._


	8. At Long Last

_A/N: So a mere eight months after starting what was to be a nice, short birthday story for the incomparable **Catrogue**, we finally come to the conclusion! So happy super late birthday, Cat! And to the rest of my readers, I hope you too enjoy this final chapter in this tale of skanks and death and plowing._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 8: At Long Last<strong>

Reacting on instinct, Sarah swung her leg in a high arc, sending Decker's gun clattering to the floor. The two men with them reached for their own pistols, but they weren't fast enough. Sarah easily outdrew them and popped them both in the middle of the forehead before either could say boo.

Decker and Jill both stood in stunned silence. Both of them incredibly nervous about what the blonde with the crazed expression would do next.

"You're trying to cost me sex!" Sarah growled, whiling around on Decker.

"I—umm—"

"Don't try to deny it! I can see right through your plot. You're trying to frame me for Jill's murder so Chuck won't place his secret agent under my cover."

"His what?" Jill asked.

Normal people would've blushed. Sarah Walker wasn't, nor had she ever been a normal person.

"I apologize for the vagueness," Sarah said. "What I mean is, Decker was trying to stop Chuck from fucking me."

"I got that," Jill mumbled.

"Why would you do this?" Sarah asked, invading Decker's personal space, standing nearly nose-to-nose with the man who was seemingly shrinking with fear.

"I—orders," was all he was able to stammer out.

"You know," Sarah said, relaxing her posture.

She turned on her heel, and began to stride away from Decker. Even with her back turned, he felt no less threatened. He was right to feel that way.

"Once upon a time, I used to think like that. Orders came before everything else. I wasn't able to think for myself. Wouldn't think for myself. It didn't matter what I was told, I'd just do it. Do you know what happened then?"

No one answered Sarah's question.

"I asked if you knew what happened then?" she repeated, adding even more steel to her voice.

"I'm guessing it had something to do with Chuck?" Jill said.

Sarah spun back around to face her nemesis. Even smiling, Sarah looked incredibly dangerous.

"Got it in one," she said, beaming.

Then Sarah's countenance darkened. That looked even more dangerous.

"And you're not allowed to say his name anymore."

Sarah cleared her throat before continuing.

"Chuck has taught me so many things. He's taught me how to love, how to laugh, and oh so many ways to contort my body." She stopped and smiled again. "Well, okay, I kind of just taught myself those, but I learned them for Chuck's benefit."

Everyone in the room suddenly felt a little more uncomfortable. Everyone except Sarah. After a long pause during which she seemed to be reliving some particularly salacious, and thereby pleasing memory, she continued her soliloquy.

"Anyway, something else Chuck taught me was that orders, while important, pale in comparison to doing the right thing. So, let me ask you Mr. Decker."

He nearly corrected her, nearly asked her to call him _Agent _Decker. But his sense of self preservation allowed him to hold his tongue.

"Obviously, you know my record. You've heard what I do to those that threaten my relationship. Hell, you were probably at the Intelligence Community Awards banquet last year."

He didn't speak up, but the nervous swallowing was enough to let Sarah know that he was indeed there to see her smear the walls with the brain matter of a fellow operative who had held her gaze on Chuck just a moment too long.

"So why would any sane person follow an order that was sure to get him killed?"

"I was just—"

Sarah wasn't about to let him get a word in edgewise.

"The answer, is that no sane person would do what you did. That, in turn makes you an _in_sane person. Insanity, especially in a CIA operative can be dangerous. It can be a threat. Tell me, are you familiar with the contract Agent Bartowski and I have regarding the rules of our relationship?"

"I've heard rumors," he mumbled, suddenly appearing very interested in the top of his shoes.

"Well, let me enlighten you. See, Chuck doesn't like it when I kill people. He can be kind of a woman that way. And only in that way, let me tell you. He's all man in the sack."

"Hear, hear," Jill piped in.

That almost cost the skank her life, but Sarah restrained herself. For now at least.

"But back to my point," Sarah continued. "You see, I'm only allowed to kill three people a week, or I will suffer conjugal penalties. But there's an exception to that rule."

"What's the exception?" Decker asked, his voice steeped in fear.

Sarah was tired of using her words, so finally, she let her actions speak for her. And if there was one action Sarah knew better than any other, it was how to kill a man. She could end a life before her victim knew they were in danger. If that was her goal, at least.

But Decker was a special kind of douchebag, and as such, deserved a special kind of death. And Sarah hadn't gotten to kill anyone with a knife in far too long, anyway. It had been at least two weeks.

She moved almost quicker than the eye could see, producing a throwing knife she'd kept in an ankle sheathe, and sending it flying in the direction of Decker's thigh. It plunged directly into his femoral artery, and he let loose a scream of anguish as he collapsed to the floor.

The wounded man was doing everything he could to stem the flow of blood, but Sarah couldn't have that. She walked over to her victim, reaching down to retrieve her knife from his leg. She pulled it out, and wiped it on his pant leg before returning it to its rightful place at her ankle, and then pressed Decker's hands against the floor. Sarah loved watching the life drain out of someone's eyes, up close and personal.

In a matter of moments, he had stopped thrashing around, and had completely bled out.

Sarah stood back to her full height. Mission accomplished. Well, almost…

"Wow," Jill said, almost right on cue. "You really are lethal."

Sarah chuckled. But her laugh was not lighthearted. It was instead teeming with bad intent.

"Oh, you don't know the half of it yet."

Like a lioness stalking its prey, Sarah advanced on Jill's position.

"What?" Jill asked, panicked. She tried to back away from her pursuer, but there wasn't a lot of room to move around in the small motel room. "But what about Chuck? He'll be angry if—"

"I told you not to say his name," Sarah seethed. "But no matter. You see, it was a shame that I didn't get here in time to keep Decker and his men from killing you, but I avenged your death. Chuck will probably reward me."

"But—"

"With sex," Sarah clarified.

Finally, the moment was upon her. She was going to end Jill Roberts' wretched existence, and Chuck not only couldn't get angry with her, but he'd be pleased with her. It was Sarah's dream come true.

While well aware that she looked like the cat that swallowed the canary, Sarah didn't even attempt to wipe the grin from her face. Why would she? She'd never been more pleased with herself, and her circumstance.

"Any last words, whore?"

"I—"

"Sarah!"

Both women whipped around to see, standing in the doorway winded, no doubt after having run to the room, Chuck Bartowski.

"Casey called me to tell me what was happening. I got here as soon as I could."

Sarah felt like screaming. How could her partner sell her out like that? Had he no decency?

Jill was the first to address Chuck.

"Chuck! I'm so happy to see you, Sarah was just—"

"I just saved her life!" Sarah interrupted. She shot Jill a withering glare, daring the brunette to argue with her. Jill did not.

"Yes, she protected me," Jill said, adequately intimidated.

"I'm so proud of you," Chuck said, wrapping Sarah in his arms.

True, she was disappointed, but being in Chuck's arms kind of made that all go away. She sighed happily. But her happiness was short-lived.

"Chuck, you should really be careful, getting that close to her. My test results were inconclusive, but I believe Sarah may have—"

Sarah yanked away from Chuck and pointed an accusatory finger at Jill. She'd almost forgotten.

"She stole my blood!" Sarah shrieked. "She stole it, and—"

Sarah stopped. True, it was damning enough that Jill had taken her blood without permission. But there was a chance, if she could only convince Chuck of something more sinister, she may still be able to have her cake, and kill a skank, too.

"And," Sarah continued, "she was going to drink it! I think she's some kind of vampire!"

"A vampire?" Chuck asked skeptically, crossing his arms over his chest. "That doesn't make any—"

"A vampire!" Sarah reiterated. "I mean, I'm not sure, but there's a test we can do. If I stab her through the heart with a wooden stake, and she doesn't turn into dust, then we know she's not a vampire. But if she does…"

"But that will kill her!" Chuck said.

"But if she's a vampire, could you really live with yourself if we allowed her to escape?"

"She's not a vampire," Chuck said, rolling his eyes.

"But Ch-uuuuuck," Sarah whined.

"I'm not going to give you permission to kill Jill."

And so it seemed that Sarah's fake birthday weekend would end on a sour note. Her greatest enemy was going to walk away, scot-free. And there's nothing she could do about it. Sure, she could put a bullet in Jill's head faster than the skankasaurus rex could blink, but Chuck would never forgive her. Or, at least, it would take a lot of groveling to earn back his favor.

"But Jill," Chuck said, turning to his ex, "you need to get out of here. Now. And make sure we never see you again.

With a frown on her face, Sarah watched Jill walk out of the room. Besides sex with Chuck, killing Jill Roberts was the best fake birthday present she could ever wish for, and it wasn't going to happen.

"I hope you're happy," Sarah growled, once Jill was out of sight.

"I'm not happy yet," Chuck replied.

Sarah's eyebrows knit together in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Well, it seems like you and I have some unfinished business here. In this room."

Then Sarah's smile returned. "You mean…?"

And then, Sarah finally conquered Waterloo. Three times.

_The End_

* * *

><p><em>AN: Thank you guys ever so much for your patience. It has never been my intention to leave any story unfinished. As this story was a gift, one for a very special friend of mine, it took precedent in getting a completion. But now that this story is at an end, I feel like finishing some of the others. The next to get work with be Sarah vs. The Switch. Not my most popular story (granted, it's no Rock and a Hard Place), I know, but I figure there's about three chapters left there, and I can move on to some of the bigger projects left without an ending. So thank you for reading. You guys are awesome. Peace._


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